[ The moment rushes through him - and for once, Godfrey doesn't stand in its way.
No need for respectability governs him. No internal monologue in the world can keep him contained within himself. The quiet privacy of the tent rampages through him - whatever greedy remnants that might have clung to those self-imposed borders between nobility and indecency after the wine-wash are seared away by what this moment ignites in him.
He tastes his tongue and the buzz of his voice and that hot wanting roars through him, undeniable. There is hot flesh in his hands, but it's suddenly not enough; Godfrey wants to hold all of him.
He wants to kiss him slowly and passionately, and he's unable to slow the roar of his pulse, the kisses that come again and again. He wants to keep squeezing his ass and feeling the muscle twinge and shift in his hands, and he wants to cup his face as they join lips. He wants to taste his breath and the salt of his skin. He wants him breathless and moaning, deep inside of him, beneath him--
There will be cracks in the inebriation for him to peer down, come morning. None of them will give him any insight as to how he was finally separated from his shirt and the need to keep himself upright on two legs. None of it matters. Godfrey pants through gently parted lips and watches his hands move over his bare skin. ]
no subject
No need for respectability governs him. No internal monologue in the world can keep him contained within himself. The quiet privacy of the tent rampages through him - whatever greedy remnants that might have clung to those self-imposed borders between nobility and indecency after the wine-wash are seared away by what this moment ignites in him.
He tastes his tongue and the buzz of his voice and that hot wanting roars through him, undeniable. There is hot flesh in his hands, but it's suddenly not enough; Godfrey wants to hold all of him.
He wants to kiss him slowly and passionately, and he's unable to slow the roar of his pulse, the kisses that come again and again. He wants to keep squeezing his ass and feeling the muscle twinge and shift in his hands, and he wants to cup his face as they join lips. He wants to taste his breath and the salt of his skin. He wants him breathless and moaning, deep inside of him, beneath him--
There will be cracks in the inebriation for him to peer down, come morning. None of them will give him any insight as to how he was finally separated from his shirt and the need to keep himself upright on two legs. None of it matters. Godfrey pants through gently parted lips and watches his hands move over his bare skin. ]